


Remembering Him

by JordanUlysses



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Grief, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses
Summary: After Whizzer's death, Marvin decides to move, hoping that a new apartment will help with the grief. But, packing up the last of his lover's belongings, he finds something unexpected ...A story about grief and family and trying one's best to move on.





	Remembering Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Siri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri/gifts).



Marvin took the last empty box and knelt in front of the bookshelf. He only had to pack up the last two rows, filled with glossy fashion magazines that Whizzer had liked to buy in order to scoff at and make fun of them. Trina had offered to help with packing his stuff as well, as had Charlotte and Cordelia, but while Marvin had gladly accepted their and Mendel's help in packing up the rest of the apartment, he had to take care of Whizzer's stuff himself. He was not quite able to explain it … but he loved Whizzer and this was the last thing he could do for him. Take care of his things himself, no matter how hard it was to pack his lover's life into boxes.

He reached the end of the last row, his gaze getting caught on one of the covers. Whizzer had bought that the day of their last racquetball match, the day that … Marvin could feel the familiar stinging in his eyes and took a deep breath, quickly shoving the magazine into the box. Mendel said he should let it out, cry when he felt like it, but if he followed that advice, he would never finish this move.

He squeezed the rag and cleaned the shelves, stopping the movement when his hand bumped against something leaning against the back of the bottom shelf. He crouched down and reached for it, pulling out a book. It had a grey cover, an embossed eagle and the lettering “1966 O-Book” on it.

He sat back and with shaking hands opened it up. After a few pages of art, he found the table of contents and flipped to page 133, the senior section. Young faces beaming up at him in black and white and he studied the men intently, slowly making his way through the pages until – there he was. Incredibly young and handsome, his expression guarded, only a thin smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes. He traced the lines of his face with his fingers and then read the name underneath the picture. Scott Marshall, it said in capital letters and now Marvin really was crying. He should not have read this, shouldn't know … Whizzer had never talked about his past, except for a few cryptic comments. Marvin had asked a few times, but Whizzer had always diverted the conversation. As far as Marvin knew, his lover's life had started in New York and his name was Whizzer Brown, only that … there was a past and another name. Probably a family: parents, siblings, perhaps grandparents ... He closed his eyes, pressed his hands against them until the tears stopped. Charlotte had asked him if there was a family to contact, when it had become clear that Whizzer would not leave the hospital room again. All Marvin had been able to do was to shake his head.

And now … he traced the face again, wondering why Whizzer had kept this yearbook. The fact he never talked about his family and had taken on a different name strongly suggested he wanted all ties cut, so why keep something like this?

In the front he only found the information that the school was called “Central High School” and only after flipping and reading through the pages he found out that it was in Omaha, Nebraska.

He got up and stored the yearbook in his bag, and then went to make himself a cup of tea. What he really wanted was a drink, but he knew that was not a good idea. He had to think of what to do next. Whizzer's family deserved to know. Even if Whizzer had broken with them and no matter what had happened back then, family deserved to know.

He decided to finish for the day, he could get the rest of the stuff tomorrow before Mendel would help him over the weekend to disassemble the furniture.

His new apartment was half an hour away. Still close enough to Trina and Jason, but far away enough that he did not have to walk streets which he had walked with Whizzer every day. The place was still barren, only a few essentials in the kitchen and his bed as furnishment, and the telephone which had been installed yesterday.

It took him half an hour to first realize that the family name “Marshall” did not help him at all, on account of being too common, and second, to find that he could not bring himself to ring the school. What was he to say after all? How could he explain this over the phone? It had been 13 years since Whizzer had graduated, so … Marvin chuckled at that thought and then found he was crying again, full sobs shaking his body. Whizzer would have hated the fact that he had found out his age.

 

The next morning he was in his car, on the way west. It was a 19 hour drive to Omaha, so he'd have to stop along the way. He had called Trina to let her know, and even though she did not sound happy she agreed to finish with the apartment for him. She had tried to get him to stay, or at least not go alone, but he had hung up before the conversation could turn ugly. He would regret it once he came back, but for now he had other things to worry about.

The first day went uneventful. He drove until late at night, when he got a room in Iowa City. The next day he got up a bit later and had a big breakfast, before driving the last four hours. Central High School was located just west of the Missouri, but he first got a hotel room and called Trina's, glad when Jason was the one to pick up the receiver.

“Hey Jason, it's me. How are you doing?”

“'m fine,” Jason answered. “Where are you?”

“I'm in Omaha, Nebraska.”

“Why?”

“I …,” he hesitated. “Didn't your mom tell you?”

“No. She only said I wouldn't see you on the weekend. She seemed angry.”

“Yeah … she's not happy I made that trip on my own.”

“So why did you make it?”

“I … I found something from Whizzer's past. He's from here, from Omaha and … I want to see if there's any family left. And tell them.”

Jason was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “Are you okay, dad?”

“Yeah, kid. I am,” Marvin looked up at the ceiling of his hotel room, blinking away the sudden tears. “I'll be back on Monday latest, alright? I'll come by in the evening.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk to mom?”

“Not really. Just tell her I arrived well.”

“Okay. Love you, dad.”

“I love you, too.”

He sat for quite a while before he could bring himself to get up.

 

The school was an impressive building and he managed to get himself lost twice before he found the secretary's office. He knocked and was called in, a friendly looking lady looking up at him expectantly. Suddenly he realized that he had no idea what to say.

“Hello,” she greeted him. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello,” he said, “my name's Marvin Epstein. I … I'm here for some information about a former student.”

“Are you police or …?” she asked.

“No, no! I'm … you see, he …,” god, he could not do this. She seemed to sense his distress and got up, coming around to close the door.

“Please, sit down,” she indicated one of the chairs at the side, probably intended for disobedient students and took one as well after he had sat down.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and then stared down at his knees. “He died, you see. And I do not know anything about his family, I don't even know if they are still alive … but I found out that he graduated here, so I thought … I thought I ask.”

“Alright,” she said, kindly. “I'm sorry for your loss. When did he graduate?”

“In 66. I know that's quite a while ago, but maybe you still have some records ...”

“I can't just give out any information, that's more the problem,” she regarded him. “What was your relationship?”

Marvin swallowed hard. “We were friends,” he said eventually because it was the one thing he could say without lying.

“And his name?”

“Whizzer … I mean, Scott Marshall. Whizzer was his nickname.”

“Scott Marshall?” she frowned, obviously thinking and then she let out a sigh. “I know his mother.”

“Really?” he looked at her, not quite able to believe his luck.

“We are talking about Scott, who went to New York?”

“Yes. That's where I'm from, that's where he lived.”

“He broke with his parents,” she said calmly. “Do you know why?”

“No, though I can imagine,” he said. “Do you?”

“Yes. What did he die of?”

“They don't know,” Marvin said. “It's … some kind of virus.”

She nodded briskly and got up. “I will give you his mother's address. She should know. She misses him, despite everything.”

“Thank you,” he got up hurriedly as well and watched as she scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

“And one more piece of advice … his parents did not approve of his lifestyle. So you should introduce yourself as a friend and nothing else.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” he tucked the paper into his pocket, glad to leave the office.

 

The house was located on the western outskirts of town near the Elkhorn River and he found a parking space nearby. He watched it for a while from the other side of the street, trying to imagine Whizzer here, Whizzer as a kid … but he couldn't. All he could see was Whizzer in that hospital bed, having lost all that weight, his skin bruised, his smile shaky … He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, like Mendel had shown him.

An old lady was just crossing the street, carrying two heavy looking bags and he hurried towards her, glad for the distraction.

“Ma'am, can I help you?”

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him and it startled him, her face so different and yet, the same lines that had defined Whizzer's face. He took the bags and followed her over the street, having to grip tight not to let them fall as they made their way through the gate and the garden and up the steps.

“It's terribly kind of you,” she turned to him with a smile.

“It's no bother at all. Actually … you are Mrs. Marshall?”

“Yes,” she looked at him surprised.

“I wonder if I could speak to you for a moment. I promise I don't want to sell anything,” that seemed to put her at ease and she motioned for him to come inside, guiding him to the kitchen where he set the bags down.

“My husband will be home in a bit,” she said and he nodded, taking the chair she indicated. She offered him tea and he accepted, watching her work. She looked to be around 60, tall as Whizzer had been, her hair a brilliant white.

“Now,” she handed him the mug. “You haven't introduced yourself yet.”

“I … oh, yes, indeed,” he offered her his hand and they shook. “My name is Marvin Epstein. I'm from New York. I … have news about your son, Scott.”

She slowly sat down and regarded him silently. “I have not spoken to my son in 13 years,” she said eventually. “Or heard anything about him.”

“I'm aware,” Marvin swallowed. “He … he died, fours weeks ago,” there it was again, that stinging in his eyes. Would he ever be able to say it without the urge to cry and scream and fall apart? “I didn't know where he was from or who his family was, but I found his old yearbook two days ago and … a secretary at his old high school gave me your address.”

“Irma,” she said softly and he looked up from his cup he had been staring into. She still looked calm, but there were silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “How did he die?”

“They don't know,” Marvin said. “It's a virus, it's … it seems to break down the immune system, that's all they know.”

She pressed her lips together. “And who was he to you?”

He shook his head, but then answered anyway because the tone of her voice and her gaze gave him no choice. “He was my lover. I'm sorry, I realize you do not approve, but … I love him. He's … he was … everything to me.”

She got up abruptly and started to put away the groceries. He just sat and watched and waited.

“Did he never mention us?” she asked as she was putting eggs in the fridge, her back to him.

“No. I'm sorry. I tried to ask, but … he did not want to talk about it.”

“We did not part amicably,” she said and turned to him again. She had stopped crying. “Not at all. He … he told us, the night of his graduation. That he was … a homosexual,” there was hesitation in her voice as she said the word, but no disgust. “Mike … my husband, he got incredibly angry. They had a fight and … the next morning Scott was gone. He had only left a note, saying he would try his luck in New York and that we should forget about him,” now she was crying again and he fought the urge to get up and comfort her. “I did not want him to be … that, but he was my son and if he would have given me some time to understand and accept it, I would have.”

Marvin drew a shaky breath. “And your husband?”

She shook her head. “Mike would never have accepted it. Scott was dead to him the moment he disappeared. But he wasn't dead to me, you see, he's my son, I could never not love him ...”

Now he got up and approached her carefully, and she did not resist as he touched her arm and then awkwardly hugged her. It was a strange moment, but somehow he found comfort in it as she hugged him back.

“Like I said, my husband will be back soon,” she drew back from him. “You should leave. We can meet tomorrow, somewhere else?”

“Yes, of course,” he nodded. “I would like that.”

“Where are you staying?”

“It's a hotel at Elmwood Park.”

“There's a café on Pacific Street, corner of 64th Avenue. Meet me there at 10 am?”

“I'll be there,” he said.

 

After leaving the house he drove around the city aimlessly, and eventually ended up back in his hotel. He had bought some snacks and a bottle of whiskey on the way and spent the evening finishing most of it while watching bad TV. It wasn't a healthy coping strategy at all, but at least it helped him fall asleep.

 

He would have felt awful anyway the next morning, but the alcohol certainly did not help. He was glad he was at the café early and could get in some coffee and scrambled eggs before Mrs. Marshall showed up.

“You look like you haven't slept at all,” she said as she sat down.

“I have,” he shrugged. “Just not very well. It's … hard, you know?”

She nodded and ordered a coffee for herself.

“How did your husband take the news?” Marvin asked when the waitress had disappeared again.

She shrugged a bit helplessly. “I told him that a doctor called from New York. He didn't really react at all.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, that's not true,” she said. “He asked what he died of and I told him and he said he had it coming,” she got out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I'm going to divorce him. I should have done that a long time ago.”

Marvin stared at her and then reached over the table to squeeze her hand for a moment. “In my experience, good things can come of a divorce, as ugly as it may be.”

“Were you married?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes. For 10 years. It wasn't a very happy marriage, but … we are friends, now.”

“Wasn't it happy because you …,” she stopped as the waitress brought her coffee.

“Not only,” Marvin said as the waitress had left again. “But yes. I met Whizzer three years ago, which … ended my marriage.”

“Whizzer?” she asked.

“Scott, I mean. Whizzer was … that's how I knew him. Whizzer Brown. I only found out his name from his yearbook.”

“He changed his name?” she asked and wiped her eyes again.

“Yes,” Marvin said and then waited until she had calmed down again. “Do you know why he would have kept the yearbook? I didn't find anything else from his past, just this.”

“I don't know. Maybe … well, he worked hard that last year of school. I always thought that maybe he had already been planning to leave. What did he work as?”

“He was an incredibly talented photographer. He wasn't very successful with it, but … he would have deserved it. Which reminds me,” he opened his bag and pulled out Whizzer's portfolio. “I thought you might want to have a look. The subject is New York, and his life, really. There are a few pictures of … well, men kissing, but … it was a part of his life and it didn't feel right to take them out.”

“He always was fascinated with cameras,” she reached for it and he watched her slowly turn the pages. “Is this Central Park?” she held up the folder. “I've never been to New York, you see.”

“Yes, it is,” Marvin said. “We had a picnic that day. I had tried to make a cake, but it did not go well,” he chuckled, while she continued looking through it.

“And this?” she held it up again. On the picture was a tennis court, the blazing sun outlining everything sharply.

“We used to play,” Marvin said. “We switched to racquetball at some point.”

She nodded and then reached the last couple of pages. “Who's this?” she asked. It was a picture of Jason, at a baseball game they had visited a few months back. He was saying something, a big smile on his face as he pointed at the field.

“My son,” Marvin said. “Jason. He and Whizzer … they were close. He was like a dad to him.”

She breathed out softly and finished looking through the folder. “Can I keep this?” she asked and he nodded.

“I brought it for you. I hoped you would take it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Was he happy?”

“Happy? Yes, I think so. We … had some rough patches, which was my fault mostly, though … he could be a bit mean as well,” she chuckled at his words. “But yes, we were happy, especially in the last half year. We had … separated and gotten back together …,” deep breaths, and it helped. “He lived life fully, you know? Never wasting a day, being passionate in his work and …,” he broke off. “I mean, he enjoyed life and I cannot believe that he's gone ...”

“I'm sorry that I could not see him grow and mature,” she said softly. “To know the man he became. Will you be alright?”

Her question startled him, as did the concern in her voice. “Yes. I mean … I have my family and some very good friends. They take care of me. Some days I have to remember to let them, but … I'll be fine. Time will help, I suppose.”

She nodded, reaching into her bad. “I got you some pictures as well,” she handed him an envelope. “There aren't many. He never liked being photographed himself and … well, he wasn't a very happy child.”

He took the envelope, putting it down on the table. “Thank you.”

“Will you write down your number for me? I think it would be nice to stay in contact.”

“Gladly,” he got out a pen and wrote his number on the last page of Whizzer's portfolio.

“And thank you for coming all this way,” she gestured to the waitress. “I need to leave, but … it was good to talk about Scott.”

“It was. I'll cover the bill.”

She smiled and got up as well. They hugged and he watched her leave, a warm glow in his chest that only slowly dissipated.

 

He opened the envelope when he was safely back in his hotel room. Inside was a handful of pictures of Whizzer – as a baby, a toddler, when he was around 10 and then a few when he had been an older student. He never fully smiled, there was always something guarded in his look. Marvin stared at the pictures and then he put them back, afraid he would ruin them with the tears which finally came.

 

He left Omaha in the late afternoon, eager to get the first part of the journey behind himself. He would arrive Sunday afternoon if all went smoothly, which meant he could go by Trina's and see Jason a day earlier than he had said. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to hug his son.

 

They were just about to have dinner when he arrived and Trina invited him in, worry written all over her face. He ignored it and hugged Jason tightly, who had ran towards him.

“Hello Marvin,” Mendel greeted him and Marvin returned his nod, still not letting Jason go.

“I'll get you a plate,” Trina said decidedly.

 

They had dinner and afterwards Marvin brought Jason to bed. “Did you find Whizzer's family?” he asked. They had not spoken about it at dinner, Marvin glad to have some more time.

“Yes,” he now said. “I spoke to his mother. We will probably stay in contact. She is … a nice woman, I think.”

“So it was good that you went,” Jason said.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel … better now. A bit.”

“That's good. I love you, dad,” Jason hugged him tightly and Marvin kissed the top of his head.

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Trina asked. They were sitting in the living room, having a glass of wine.

“I'm not sure what I was looking for,” Marvin said. “I wanted … to see where he's from, I suppose. And …,” he hesitated, not sure how to voice his thoughts. “All I've been seeing when thinking of him is him in this hospital bed, you know? And I promised him I wouldn't remember him like that, but I couldn't help it …,” he shook his head. “Now, they're … still there, those memories, but … the other ones are there as well.”

“That's good,” Mendel said softly. “And there are more good ones than bad, aren't there?”

Marvin nodded. “Could you recommend me a psychiatrist?” he asked before he could change his mind. “I think I should take up therapy again.”

“Of course. I'll make a list tomorrow,” Mendel exchanged a look with Trina.

“Would you like to sleep here tonight?” she asked. “I can make up the bed in the guest room.”

“That would be nice,” Marvin said. “Thank you.”

 

Marvin sat down on the bed, glad to have another night before he had to go back to his life. He would face it tomorrow, his job and his new apartment, but for now it was good to be here, close to Jason and Trina. There was a knock on his door and Jason came in.

“Shouldn't you be asleep?” Marvin asked, but made room on the bed. Jason climbed onto it and Marvin pulled up the blanket around them.

“I miss him,” Jason said and Marvin pulled him into a tight hug.

“I know. I miss him, too,” he said. “Would you like to see some pictures of him? His mother gave them to me.”

Jason nodded and Marvin reached for the envelope he had put on the bedside table. Jason took it and looked slowly through the pictures.

“He never looks fully happy,” Jason said as he reached the last picture.

“No. I don't think he had an easy childhood.”

“He was happy with you. Mostly,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Marvin chuckled. “I was mostly happy with him as well.”

“Can I sleep here?”

“If you want to,” Marvin said. “It's not a very big bed.”

“We'll fit,” Jason shrugged and put the pictures back, laying down properly. Marvin reached for the light switch and laid down as well. He would have no trouble falling asleep tonight, not with Jason at his side and the memories of Whizzer in his mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, but it was a very persitent plot bunny and fun to write. Scott is down to Andrew Rannells, as is Omaha, Nebraska (that's where he's from, if you didn't know). Marshall just sounded good in combination. Thank you for reading!


End file.
